Laryngitis
by where the wind blows
Summary: Edmund hates being confined to the bed and is always pretending he is not sick in order to stay of it. However he is quite unsuccessful at hiding illness from certain over protective brother… and everyone else for that matter...


**Disclaimer: I don't own them sorry… **

**Summary: Edmund hates being confined to the bed and is always pretending he is not sick in order to stay of it. However he is quite unsuccessful at hiding illness from certain over protective brother… and everyone else for that matter**

**Laryngitis **

Everyone gets it once in a while, once a year maybe, or perhaps once every three years. However Edmund Pevensie was not _everyone. _Edmund Pevensie was as far from everyone as it is possible to be.

For one thing Edmund Pevensie was a King of Narnia along with his brother and two sisters, he had this knack for attracting danger, he had once been a traitor to the country but was now looked up upon by everyone, and he was possibly the smartest person _everyone _would ever meet.

But on this particular gloomy Narnian day Edmund was displaying one of the features of himself that made him even more different from _everyone _else.

It really had all started the night before when the boy had felt a slight cough in the back of his throat. As always Edmund pretended to ignore the sensation focusing on more important things such, as completing the document that would create a Narnian navy.

For the last week the Narnian King and been frantically going over books, documents, and all other research on the subject. He had been staying up long hours reading and had stressing himself by working too hard. Edmund may have been a King of Narnia but sixteen-years-olds can only take so much.

That is why the next morning Edmund woke up coughing. For five full minutes Edmund coughed, huge wracking coughs that shook his body and made his overstuffed head feel dizzy. It was only after the coughing had ended that that King was able to take in what was happening. The conclusion he came to was not a good one.

Scrambling out of bed Edmund stood, swayed and stumbled over to the bathroom. Resting his hands on the sink so that he would not fall to the ground Edmund looked at his reflection. A pale boy looked back at him, his dark hair contrasting greatly with the flush of his white cheeks and the wildness of his eyes. 'It's alright' Edmund thought 'it can't be _that _bad'

After closing his eyes for a moment praying to Aslan that the world would stop spinning Edmund looked back at his reflection. If there was one thing that Edmund hated in the word it was being sick. The sickness itself was annoying but it was the bed rest that made Edmund want to scream. He _hated _being stuck in his bed.

Edmund opened him mouth, he already knew what was going to happen when he spoke but he had a vain hope that if his voice sounded normal no one would feel the need to confine him to his bed.

"My _N_aMe Is_s _EdMu_nD" _The boy shuddered, his voice sounded like it was coming from a badly oiled machine, with a head cold.

'Great, just fantastic.' The Just King thought to himself frowning at the mirror as if it was the cause to all his problems 'what am I suppose to do now?'

Edmund turned away from the offending piece of glass and stumbled to his dresser. Pulling out an outfit he struggled into the clothes. Once he had all the clothes on the proper body part Edmund had to sit down, the process had totally exhausted the young King. Looking up at the white washed ceiling the boy formed a plan. He stood, a little too quickly and grabbed his head as the world started spinning again. He managed to reach the bathroom without falling to the ground and proceeded to splash water on his face trying to bring some color back into it. After a time he had managed to look a little less pale and he could blame that on lack of sleep.

The next issue was the voice, Edmund opened his mouth to say something to his reflection. It took twenty minutes of struggling over words but Edmund managed to get his voice sounding only horse not squeaky. Maybe no one would notice…

As he exited the small bathroom he looked once more around the room. If the young man had been seeing sense he would have gone right back to bed and waited till someone found him, told them he was sick, and spent a day in bed. However Edmund Pevensie never saw sense when he was sick, instead he walked out of the bedroom.

The guards outside his door stood at attention as he passed waiting for their costmary "Good morning gentlemen" from the King. However this morning Edmund merely smiled and nodded at them before making his way down to the kitchen. This should have been the first sign that something was not quite right with the Just King.

The High King Peter was having a good morning. He had awoken to rain softly pattering against his window, taken a wash, gotten dressed and had walked out the door with a smile on his face. The High King then made his way down to the kitchen intent on finding some food. Breakfast was served daily between the hours of seven and eight but as it was only six Peter would have to find some food on his own. This was not uncommon; often the Kings and Queens would dine themselves privately before the official breakfast.

And so Peter walked down to the kitchen a smile planted on his face. He was not really sure _why _he was in a good mood but he did not want to ruin the mood by thinking about why he _was _having a good day. Entering the kitchen he saw Mrs. Thumpers plotting around the kitchen humming and cooking various items. Peter smiled as he entered and plucked one of the fresh scones off the table. "Good morning Mrs. Thumper"

"Moring your majesty" the rabbit replied smacking his hand with a spoon as he reached for another of her pastries. "Now, now your highness you had best eat some of those before you fill yourself." She said nodding to a bowl of fruit sitting in the center of the table.

Peter grimaced and reached for an apple. Once the Pevensies had moved in to the castle Mrs. Thumper had taken them under her paw treating them like her own.

As Peter bit into the green fruit he heard the sound of footprints outside the door. They were not even footprints, in fact they sounded as though someone was faltering along the hallway. Pausing Peter looking up at the door as it squeaked open. In came his brother. Edmund looked off, for a moment he leaned again the door looking at Peter through bleary eyes.

Peter just grinned. Edmund was _not _a morning person. "Good morning brother mine." Peter said taking another chomp out of the apple and grinning at Edmund who had stumbled over to the table. The Just King was eyeing Peter with trepidation as though he had done something wrong. "Something wrong Ed?" Peter asked taking in is brother appearance. Edmund looked a bit paler than usual and his hair was a tad messy.

Edmund shook his head and smile at Peter. Peter noticed the smile did not reach his brothers eyes. His frown deepening The High King scrutinized Edmund closer. There where bags under Edmunds eyes and his was drawn. Another thing that worried the older King was that Edmund was not talking, every morning the first words out of his brother mouth where "Moring are the worst part of the day I feel as though we should ban them…" or "leave me alone Peter I _hate _mornings." Or "Go away!' clearly something was wrong if he was not saying anything.

Thinking that if he got his brother to talk he would find out what was wrong Peter asked "So what do you have planned for the day?"

In response his brother shrugged looking down at the toast Mrs. Thumper had placed in front of him. Peter frowned, if possible even deeper. "You sure your alright Ed?" Peter said looking at the way Edmund started at the food. It was like the young King had not comprehended it was there.

"I'm fine Peter" came the quite response. Peter was now looking concerned as well as shocked; this was totally unlike the brother he knew. He shared a look with the cook who was frowning at the boy as well.

"Edm-"

"I'm fine Peter rEally." Edmund said his voice hitched a bit as he glared at his older brother.

Peter grinned realizing what was going on. "Edmund…"

"ReAlly PetEr Imma FinE!" Edmund said his eyes now wide as they darted around the small room looking for an escape.

"Edmund, do you really take me for a fool?" Peter said laughing at the way his poor brother's voice hitched with every syllable. Peter stood and moved towards Edmund.

"Imma FiNe!" Edmund screeched as he struggled to his feet and tripped to the door, well what he thought was the door; the poor boy was so dizzy that he practically ran straight into the wall. As he fell back he was caught by a chuckling older brother.

"Really Edmund." Peter said wincing as he caught his brother. "I know you hate being sick but this is ridicules." With those words Peter placed his now shaking brother back on his feet "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Edmund shook his head determination in his eyes "Really PeAter I feEl fine!"

"If it was just your voice I would say the same Ed, but you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you where sick? We need to get you to bed."

"No!" Edmund said acting more like a three-year-old than a King.

"Edmund!" Peter groaned at the boy lunged out of his arms and tried to walk out of the room. Unfortunately (for him) he hit the door frame again and stumbled back. Peter once again caught the boy, only this time he swiped Edmund right off his feet and walked out of the room with Edmund squeaking "PetEr PuT mE Do_w__n_!"

"Mrs. Thumper could you please sent some soup up to the Just Kings room?" Peter said carrying his sick brother away.

"Peter I FeEl fiNe itS jUsT my VoIce!" Edmund complained struggling in his older brother's grip.

"Like I said before Ed you're as hot as a fire, and as pale as snow you need to go back to bed."

Edmund just glared.

Half hour later Edmund had given up glaring; it was making his head pound. Instead he just looked at his brother with a blank expression as the older King accepted a hot bowl of soup from the cook.

Somehow Peter had managed to get his brother back into his bed cloths and into the bed. This probably would not have been achieved if Edmund had not gone into a coughing fit during the struggle. Peter, instead of comforting the oxygen deprived boy had forced him into his nightgown and pushed him into bed. Currently Edmund was lying amongst ten pillows with blankets pulled up to his chest, they would have been higher (say to his chin) but Edmund had refused to uncross his arms.

After taking the soup Peter sat down at the end of Edmund bed and scrutinized his little brother for what must have been the eighth time that morning. Edmund looked sadly pale against the sheets as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Edmund," Peter said placing the tray on the poor King's lap. "You need to eat some of this."

As if he was trying to make the High King angry the Just King shook his head. "Edmund" Peter groaned.

"I'm too hot for soup." Edmund whispered his voice horse and tired.

Peter sympathized "I know Ed, but it will help I promise."

Edmund did say anything; he just looked into his brothers pleading eyes and with a sigh he picked up the spoon.

Ten minutes and a half a bowl of soup later Edmund was back to staring at the ceiling. "I Don'T unDerStanD whY do I AlwAys GeT sick?"

"The less you talk the faster you'll heal." Peter said "And if you heal fast I won't even tell the girls you where sick while they were visiting Archenland."

Edmund snapped his mouth shut, Peter was bad enough he didn't need to fussing sisters rushing home to check on him.

Peter laughed "Though I will admit that sound to make when you talk it _quite _amusing."

This earned him a face full of pillow.

Peter looked ready to throw one back at the boy however Edmund said "You wOuldN't hIt youR poOr siCk BrotheR woUld yoU?"

It was Peters turn to scowl but stopped as his brother started coughing. Standing Peter started to rub circles on his little brother back saying "Geeze Ed you sound bloody awful."

"Don't remind me." Edmund said between coughs. "What number is this?"

"I think it's the third time since the start of the New Year, and it's only been six months." Peter said with a sad smile. Edmund did seem to get laryngitis more than anyone else.

"I thiNk I haVe a defEctive iMmuNe system." The Just King wheezed.

Peter just laughed shaking his head at this poor sick brother. "Not to worry Ed no matter how defective your immune system is you will never be able to hide it from me."

**So I wrote this while I myself am suffering from Laryngitis. In fact I seem to get Laryngitis more than anyone I know and my cousin thinks I have a defective immune system! So because I cannot talk I decided to write a story about it. **

**I will feel a lot better if you REVIEW! **


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